Costumes
by ChosenOfAshurha
Summary: John Watson just wanted to trick-or-treat. The last person he expected was to meet an impossibly tall man with the creepiest costume he's ever seen. After a tumble, Jim Moriarty carries John away to eat his candy somewhere safe - of course, John doesn't know Jim Moriarty died three years prior... TW: Gore, TW: Shota!John, TW: Underage


Harry told him to stay put. "I won't be long," she swore, ruffling John's soft hair. Dirty blond strands stuck out every which way as he tilted his chin up, flashing her a look far too knowing for a boy of his age. "Just stay put, John. I'll be back." His sister disappeared into the party two hours ago, and John Watson was freezing. Halloween usually meant fun, but Harriet wasn't a little girl anymore. He remembered the fit she threw when their father told her to take him trick-or-treating - how she screamed, how she slammed the door, her harsh snarl comparing her little brother to a weight around her neck…

He wanted to go home, even with only a quarter of a bag of sweets. The crowds walking along the pavement had thinned; only brown leaves stirring in the breeze kept him company. What was taking her so long? John couldn't keep waiting - not with the creaking branches and the shadows dancing in the dark. He pushed himself up and lifted his pillowcase, casting one last glance back at the house Harry entered.

She never saw John again.

No one paid attention to the lone little lion toddling down the street. He held his bag up and shyly whispered "Trick or Treat" at every door he approached, tagging along behind a group of kids his age. A pirate, a ghost, a robot, and a unicorn princess laughed and giggled and swapped candy. They didn't notice him following a few paces behind, completely unsupervised. At Mrs. Hudson's door, however, he lost track of the little pack. Walking away from her door on Baker Street, John tripped over his trainers and fell down on the pavement. His bag fell from his hands, spilling candy all over the street.

"No!" John cried, hurrying to pick up every sweet before they were stepped on. Pant leg torn, blood welling from the scrape on his knee, he longed for Harriet to lift him up and tell him it was alright. A reassuring hug, kind words… Harry was always good for that, when she happened to be around. As he sniffed and stuffed candy back into his pillowcase, a dark shadow crept over him.

"Why are you crying?"

John raised his head and wiped the tears from his cheeks. That strange, echoing voice filled his ears and small frame, piercing him like tiny needles. He shuddered and lifted his head to get a better look at the speaker. Long limbs, a dirt-covered suit, white eyes and blood matting his hair… He looked horrifying. He looked perfect.

"I just, I just tripped… I'm okay…"

"I like your costume."

"You…. You do?"

Nodding, the man bent down and lifted John in his arms. Black lips stretched in a smile as he looked into John's bright blue eyes. Through the pain John smiled back - the man was kind, and even though he knew to be careful around strangers John couldn't help but feel safe in his embrace.

"Well, I like yours too. It's scary."

"Are you afraid of me?"

"No, I don't think so," John answered. "It's Halloween. You're supposed to be scary on Halloween."

As John spoke, the costumed man raised his head and glanced around the street. A few stragglers hurried from house to house, but it remained otherwise deserted. So far, they were safe from prying eyes.

"Why are you out here all alone?"

"My sister, um…. My sister and I got separated. It was an accident." The lie slipped easily from his lips as his new friend inspected the wound on his knee. John left Harry willingly, yes, but only after she left him first. He just wanted to get away from the cold and that dark. John just wanted to trick or treat.

"You poor thing. I'll take care of you, such good care..."

John let out a soft gasp as the man pressed a kiss to his scraped knee. Blood smeared over his lips, but he didn't seem to mind at all. As John watched, a pale tongue traced over the mess and licked it clean.

"Do you have a name?"

"John, sir."

"Do you want me to make the pain stop, Johnny?"

"I… Y-es, yes I do." Around them, the air grew noticeably frigid. One by one the street lights flickered out, leaving them alone in a ring of light. John pressed against the man out of pure instinct, seeking his warmth - but there was no warmth coming from his body.

"Daddy's going to take you home."

Shadows gathered, enveloping the pair in a cloak of darkest black. Unable to see, John let out a whimper and knotted his small fist in the lapel of his new friend's suit. Though he trembled with fear, he didn't raise a single objection. The pale, spider-like hand that cupped his head protected him as they sank into the pavement, disappearing from the street entirely.

All that remained of their presence was a single piece of caramel laying beneath the lamp post.

When the man released John, he lifted his eyes and peeked around at his surroundings. They stood in a house that seemed to belong in one of Harry's horror movies. Once opulent, the furniture lay covered in dust and cobwebs. It felt as though no one lived there, if anyone ever had.

"I… I never got your name," John whispered, trying to distract himself from the odd change of scenery. He dreamed it; all of it, a nightmare. He must be sleeping. That felt like the only proper explanation for what happened.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi."

"Um, hi, Jim."

"Do you still hurt?"

John glanced down at his scraped knee and sniffed. His skin stung, and it hurt to move. Jim promised he'd make him feel better, when they were on Baker Street. Would he still help now?

"Y-yes. Yes, I do."

While John watched, Jim set him down on the dusty sofa and reached into his bag of candy. After a few moments he pulled out a handful of chocolates. With steady, careful fingers, he unwrapped one piece, eyes never leaving John's.

"Open?"

John parted his lips, curious. Cold fingers slipped the treat between his lips, and John sucked on the chocolate while Jim inspected his wound. While John seemed distracted, he bent low and lapped at the raw skin. Jim's tongue, cold and wet, helped soothe the burn of John's scrape. He moaned, a low, shuddering sound as he cleaned John's wound. When no traces of blood remained, Jim produced a gauze pad. From where, John couldn't be sure, but it didn't much matter to him. He cooed happily as his candy melted in his mouth. When the gauze lay taped against his skin, he swallowed and smiled up at the monstrous visage of Jim Moriarty.

"That didn't hurt," he said softly. "It… it felt weird, but it didn't hurt. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jim replied, voice rumbling in his chest.

John's small, soft hand reached up to touch Jim's jaw, stroking over his greying skin. How did he get his makeup so realistic? It felt like real skin. Well, of course it was real skin - but John couldn't feel the makeup. No grainy foundation dyed for the corpse-like look, no contouring powder… Did the rest of his costume feel the same?

"I, um, I like your makeup. Especially your lipstick.

Chuckling, Jim touched his blackened lips. Did John still think he wore a costume for the holiday? What a sweet, innocent boy. He leaned in, tilting John's chin up with two cold fingers, and kissed him.

John's eyes widened as Jim's tongue slipped between his lips, kissing him deeply. He didn't know what to do; in his whole life, John never kissed anyone. Not like this. Cooing, he tried to copy what Jim did, letting him lead. When they finally parted, he blinked up at Jim as if in a daze.

"That's - that's not lipstick, is it?" His voice shook as he reached forward, brushing his fingertips against Jim's lips to check. Cool, slightly damp, but the black didn't wipe away. It felt like normal skin, if a little looser.

"No, Johnny," Jim breathed, twining fingers in his golden hair. "I'm not wearing any makeup."

Tears welled in John's eyes as the realization sunk in. Jim wore no costume; his sunken eyes, the hole blown in his skull, everything about his outfit was real. Somehow he ended up with a monster. No one knew where he went, no one would look for him… He would die here, he felt so sure of it.

"What? Johnny, no, don't cry! I won't hurt you!" Jim's black eyes widened as he scooped John in his arms and carried him toward the back of the house.

"I can fix it, let Daddy fix it, please..."

When they reached the bedroom, dusty candles flared to life and Jim lay his little lion on the bed. Long fingers slid over his costume, sharp nails tipped with black pressing gently against him.

Still crying, John sniffed as Jim's hands slid beneath him to unzip his costume. Beneath it he wore nothing but a pair of red pants, bright against his slightly tanned skin. Jim let out an appreciative coo and kissed up John's bare chest, pausing over his beating heart. So alive, so warm, and so innocent… How could Jim resist him? John lay paralyzed by fear, though he welcomed each gentle touch and each soft groan of pleasure. Whatever Jim might be, he was careful and tender when he interacted with John. One hand slipped lower, cupping John through his pants, and John gasped. No one should touch him there, right? So why did it feel so good when Jim did it?

"Johnny, may I take these off?"

"W-why?"

"I want to ease your fears."

John took a shuddering breath and nodded. Sure, Jim could undress him. Though terrified of the strange creature, Jim really did treat him nice. Nicer than his father, nicer even than Harry.

With his permission, Jim slid them off his legs until John was completely naked. The little lion hood stayed on, though - he liked it, and more importantly he liked John wearing it. With his big, black eyes focused up on John, Jim lowered his head and ran his long tongue over John's little cock, feeling it harden beneath him. He moaned, sliding a hand up John's unmarred thigh. So soft, so sweet… the best confection Jim ever tasted.

As he lapped at his skin, John whimpered and reached down to touch his head. Avoiding the hole was difficult, but John managed to find a soft patch of hair to stroke instead. It felt good, somehow. Those naughty, dirty licks made him feel warm and tingly all over. Sighing, he arched his back and leaned into Jim's mouth.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed, Jim's own arousal grew difficult to ignore. He wanted, god, how he wanted… It would be so easy to drop his tattered suit and let the writhing mass of tentacles tangle around Johnny, wetting his muscle and stretching him open - but that could wait. After tonight, they would have forever to explore one another. Right now, all that mattered to him was easing John's fears through gentle pleasures.

"J-Jim," John panted, watching as Jim took him fully into his mouth. "That's - I, I like that, please… Don't stop…"

Jim had no intention of stopping, not until Jim came across his wicked tongue. The way he writhed and whined, he didn't think it'd take much longer. John's noises became more unintelligible, breathy and desperate as his grip in Jim's hair tightened. He rocked into his mouth, fucking his face as best he could with no exposure and no practice. Even so, it thrilled Jim, and he couldn't help but wonder how John would be with more experience under his belt. He could feed on his lust for ages, if he was careful…

"Daddy!" John cried, coming without warning. His hips jerked forward as his prick pulsed between Jim's lips, body rigid with pleasure. Sweat dampened the hair on his brow as he gasped for breath, his soft skin flushed. Oh, he loved that - fear forgotten for the moment, John slumped onto the mattress and cooed happily.

Jim licked him clean, moaning in turn. He pulled off with an obscene pop and crawled into bed beside him, eager to cradle John in his arms. He didn't fear him; Jim could smell the change in John's demeanor, and it wasn't hard to see that he didn't want to leave.

"That… that was…"

"You enjoyed it?"

"Yes. Oh, Jim - Daddy - I loved that."

He peeked up at Jim, thinking a moment. That felt good… Maybe he could make Jim feel good too. Licking his lips, John stretched his neck up and kissed Jim's chin.

"Is, um… is there something I could do that would feel like that to you?"

The sun peeked through the windows, the barest hint of dawn on the horizon. Jim would need rest soon, lest his body fall apart. Even though his body demanded attention, he didn't dare force consciousness during the day.

"Tonight, yes," he promised John, pressing his black lips to John's forehead."I'll show you many, many things, Johnny, but for now Daddy needs to sleep. Will you sleep with me?"

"... Yes, Daddy. I'll sleep with you."

Humming, Jim pulled the blankets over their bodies - more for Johnny's benefit than his - and closed his eyes. Just before he sank into his torpor, he swore he heard John whisper happy halloween and giggle softly.

Oh, he would never let Johnny go.


End file.
